


The Same Only Different

by mindy_makru_tutu



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, First Time, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-28
Updated: 2009-09-28
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindy_makru_tutu/pseuds/mindy_makru_tutu
Summary: “Black Tie” revisited. Years later, Jack and Liz find themselves in the same moment.





	The Same Only Different

Years later, they’re still bickering over it:

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You _so_ were.”

“I was _not_.”

“Oh come on, Jack, that phoney move with the necklace? Please. What d’you think I was born yesterday?”

“I know you weren’t, Lemon, I know exactly how old you are, and it was not phoney. That piece was hired -- at great cost, I might add. I simply wanted to ensure I got my deposit back.”

“Sure.”

“Do you have any idea how much money I put around your neck that night? If I’d had any clue then as to your propensity to hurl valuable jewels into tight spaces I might’ve thought twice about bestowing such a priceless piece on you.”

“Hey. Nobody asked you to deck me out in jewels. I never demanded you find me a dress and pass me off as your girlfriend and escort me home. That was all you. If you recall, I was pretty reluctant about the entire evening.”

“Except for the lobster tails, by my recollection.”

“And I certainly didn’t want you kissing me at the end of the night.”

“I know.”

“What?”

“That’s why I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

“…Really.”

“Liz, I was hardly born yesterday either. I have had enough experience with women to read signals. And I could tell you would reject me. Which you did. Rather prematurely, I thought.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“I do a little, yes.”

“You had that look in your eye. Predatory.”

“I wasn’t the only one.”

“Meaning?”

“You had a look too. It wasn’t predatory, but it was there. _Beseeching_ me.”

“I’ve never beseeched in my life.”

“Oh really?”

“Not a beseecher, Jack. Never have beseeched, never will beseech -- don’t aspire to beseech. Not anyone, and especially not you.”

“You did, without knowing it. I distinctly remember the look in _those eyes_.”

“What eyes? I don’t have eyes.”

“You do. And they give you away. Every time. They did then, and they do now. Especially since I know you so much better now.”

“You know nothing.”

“I know this. You wanted me to kiss you that night--”

“Dream on--”

“Let me finish.”

“Oka-ay, finish...”

“You _wanted_ me to kiss you.” Jack pauses before adding more pointedly, more smugly: “You just didn’t _want_ to want it.”

She raises a sceptical brow at him. “I didn’t _want_ to want it?”

“That’s right.” He nods, then tucks a curl behind her ear: “Though Lord knows why.”

“It woulda been weird,” Liz replies as she kicks her feet back and forth in the air. “That’s why.”

His fingertips continue to skate up and down her arm. “If by weird, you mean spectacular--”

“I don’t, no.”

He lets out a sigh. “To be honest, it probably would’ve been a little bit of both.”

“Probably,” she replies, the movement of his belly causing her sprawled upper body to rise and fall also.

He sighs again, gaze cast up to the ceiling. “In retrospect, it probably is best we did not give in to temptation.”

“I wasn’t in the least tempted,” she mutters under her breath: “For the record…”

Jack looks down at her from the pillow, hair mashed flat on one side. “It probably is best we waited.”

She nods against his furry stomach. “This is all I’m saying.”

* * *

Years later, it would play out in much the same way as that first highly controversial but undeniably memorable night. Except that no one would die. And no one would be sharked. And there weren’t any lobster tails, which was highly disappointing for one of them.

Apart from that, it all went much the same. With some minor exceptions. For starters, by then, Liz was very comfortable accompanying Jack to parties. She was marginally more comfortable wearing couture and hired jewels to such affairs. She was also far less guarded around him than she had been initially. Jack, too, was more relaxed, more attentive and more complimentary. And on this occasion, there wasn’t any other woman occupying his thoughts but Liz Lemon.

They danced, they laughed, they ate. They reveled in their firmly established rapport. And both made sure _not_ to ask the other whether what they were doing could be classified as a date. Because they both knew.

It wasn’t.

They’d known each other far too long to go out on an actual date. It was just unfeasible at this point. To start afresh. That did not mean, however, that Jack wouldn’t be escorting her home. It didn’t mean Liz didn’t want him to. And it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a moment, an opportunity. One which had passed before them more than just once.

Liz did not mind Jack following her into her apartment. This time, she expected it -- and made sure not to leave her spanks out for him to see. Also different from the night of Gerhardt’s party, she was not wearing red. She was in black, still strapless, a floor-length gown, and the necklace Jack had selected for this occasion was far more her style than the first one had been. It was not bulky and showy -- it was simple, classic, delicate. It suited her better. So much so that when Jack -- in his finest tux, of course – leaned in, breath smelling of wine, he rather regretted having to remove it.

There was more than a hint of déjà vu when he lifted his hands towards her. They were both aware of it. As they stood suspended in a moment from their shared past. Neither had forgotten the infamous night they never kissed, that long ago missed possibility. Over the years, it had become such a source of latent curiosity and unsettling regret, the closer they grew and the less they acknowledged it. And now, without even meaning to, they found themselves back in the exact same positions as that night, five years before.

While both were older and wiser than those earlier incarnations of themselves, beyond that, very little had changed. Only what they meant to each other. Which was inestimably more. They were the same people, essentially, individually. But not as couple. And in many ways, that’s what they’d become. Making the moment -- the view from this new, old place -- feel oddly, pointedly different.

Their banter ceased abruptly.

Jack watched a change come over Liz -- her face, her body. A charge leapt between them like wildfire. But unlike that first night, when he leaned closer, she did not halt him. As before, Jack treated the removal of her necklace like a most delicate operation. Also like the first time, it did not escape his notice how appealing the pale curve of shoulder looked, how the cadence of her cleavage incited his imagination. He could feel the underlying pull that had always, always existed whenever he was in a room with Liz. It grew almost unbearably potent when he was so close to her. Especially since in the ensuing years since he was last this close to her, this alone with her, she’d only grown more beautiful, more tempting. And more dear to him.

So he delayed removing the necklace. Let his fingers linger. He inched forward, releasing his breath. He let his nose sift through the bangs that’d escaped from her upswept hair-do earlier in the night as she was bobbing about the dance floor. And knowing – or at least, suspecting that this time, there would be no imminent objection – he placed a single, soft kiss on her hairline. Drawing another breath, he closed his eyes, drank her in, before laying another kiss a little lower, on her temple. His hands relaxed, fell lightly to her shoulders, the contact against bare skin making her gasp a little. And he had to agree -- the satisfaction of it was tremendous. Gasp-worthy.

She whispered his name as his palms slid up either side of her neck, thumbs tilting her chin up ever so slightly. There was nothing in her voice that could be construed as reluctance though or rejection or even doubt. This time, Liz was right there with him. They both knew this was going to happen tonight. Or perhaps they’d both just hoped. He couldn’t believe the stunning relief and excitement he felt at finally making it back to this moment with her. Especially since this time, they’d get it right. Or at the very least, they’d do it differently.

A wave of affection passed over him – it struck him as a physical thing, right in his gut. A symptom of how genuinely he cared for this woman. This anomaly who’d become more than just his friend. Somehow, at some indeterminate time, she’d become his Everything. His absolute. His ultimate. His One. As the wave subsided -- but before it left entirely -- Jack leaned in to kiss Liz. Liz sucked in a breath. Then pressed back against his mouth, her lips fitting with his in a way that seemed utterly perfect and preordained.

Hands on her neck, he drew her closer, tugging more insistently at her lips with his. Her hands lifted, stalled in mid-air then settled tentatively on his forearms. He took it slow. There was no need to rush. No desire to rush. Nor did he wish to spook her with how fiercely he wanted her. Years of hidden longing was rising to the surface. The desire was there in her too, perceptible but fragile. He could see it in her eyes when he pulled back from that first kiss. Perhaps they would always hold secrets, those enigmatic eyes, but at least they held less than the last time they were here.

One secret they weren’t hiding too well was that she wanted him to kiss her again. So he did. Again and again and again. Soon his fingers were unzipping the back of her dress and slipping inside to sample her skin. And soon after that, she was pulling on his jacket lapels, drawing him towards the bedroom, her lips never leaving his. Not until they reached the threshold.

She turned, pushed opened the door. Switched on the light. And stopped, leaning into the door frame, her back to him, the curls of her hair bobbing with each sharp exhalation of breath.

Jack moved close, behind her, mouth against her ear. “You want this, right?”

She swallowed. “Yeah. You?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” he murmured low.

“Jack…is this a bad idea?” she asked in a near whisper.

“No,” he answered definitively: “it’s not.”

“Oh…” She half-laughed at his undaunted clarity: ”okay then.”

He lowered his voice to a husky rasp, kissed her ear: “Turn around, Lemon. Turn around and I will show you how bad an idea it is not.”

“I believe you already,” she muttered, starting to turn all the same.

When her eyes met his, a zing ran through him. Because he could see everything she was feeling, everything she wasn’t concealing. And it only made him want her harder. He backed her against the door frame, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss and ripping off his jacket at the same time. Her arms flew round his neck as she arched up to meet him. The movement causing her to come out of the top of her unfastened dress. Jack pushed it down, leaving the material bunched at her waist.

She kissed him eagerly and he kissed her back just as eagerly, and as he did he went to work on his tie then buttons of his shirt. He was desperate to feel skin on skin. Once his shirt was open, he crushed her to him, kissed her for a moment before desiring more. He unclipped the strip of bra from round her and tossed it away, feeling her soft breasts press against him before even getting a look at them. She pressed into him, enjoying the feel of him against her, hands roving shyly over his shoulders.

He would’ve loved to pick her up right there, right then, feel her wrap her legs around him, feel her weight on him. But the restrictive gown prevented such a move. So he began bunching it up at one side, seeking a thigh to caress. Before he got her dress even halfway up though, Liz tugged him deeper into the room by his shirt, heading for the bed. He stopped her just shy of it, hands on her arms, his front to her back again. He pushed the dress the rest of the way down, eased her back against him as she stood in the black puddle.

One of her hands stretched back to curl about his head. His hands went one to her breast and one to her belly. Then Jack lowered his face, put his lips against her shoulder. Liz breathed. He placed a second kiss just to the right of the first, his hand gently cupping her mound. He moved to the other shoulder so that he could see his fingers on her flesh, see his thumb moving over her rapidly tightening nipple. He kissed her again, lips feather-soft on her shoulder, fingers thick and possessive on her breast.

Liz’s chest expanded, pushing her responsive flesh into his warm palm. Her fingers dove into the hair at the nape of his neck, sending zings of pleasure down his spine. Her other hand scratched lightly at his forearm as he stole it southwards, fingers dipping inside her panties to find her slippery wet and ready for him.

* * *

It’s much later when her dress is abandoned on the floor and his tux scattered in various locations about the room that they bicker about their first near-kiss. The night of Gerhardt’s party. Who wanted to kiss who and why it didn’t eventuate. It seems fairly redundant since it was so many years ago. And since they’re both stark naked and limply entwined. Jack’s chest hair is matted with sweat and Liz’s hair-do is half toppled. One of her legs is thrown over his, her hands are folded on his belly, chin on top of them as his fingertips run up and down one of her arms.

 

In the end, Jack concludes that: “It probably is best we waited.”

Liz agrees with: “This is all I’m saying.”

“Lemon, ” he announces a moment later, drawing a new breath: “I want to thank you.”

“What for?” she mutters, peering up at him: “Showing you you can enjoy sex with a woman my age?”

“That wasn’t mere enjoyment you heard,” he replies languidly. “Nor was that just sex, and you know it.”

“I must admit…” she murmurs, letting out a sigh: “that was pretty spectacular. Even the weird bits.”

Jack hums as he rolls her over. “Mm. _Especially_ the weird bits.”

She giggles as he shifts down beside her, onto his side. Her breasts jiggle with her laughter, the diamond teardrop still hanging between them. He rights it, so it’s sitting in the center of her chest, then traces the line of the chain with his fingers, laying random kisses either side of the jewel. For some reason, it seems particularly fitting, somehow significant that she’s still wearing it. And when she reaches up behind her to take it off, he stops her hands.

“No,” he says. “Leave it on.“

Her eyelashes flick down then up. “Aren’t you at all concerned about your deposit?”

“I don’t intend to take my eyes off you,” he tells her, gaze sweeping over her naked body: “So, no. Not in the least.”

Her hands fall back on the pillow beside her head. Meanwhile, one of his begins to skate down her body. His mouth continues his attentions to her breasts, taking one into the warm cavern of his mouth. Her fingers weave through his hair as his hand travels downwards in lazy circles, exploring the curve of her hip, the rise of her belly, reaching down one thigh before parting them and coming to rest between her legs.

He pulls back, looks into her eyes as he cups her. He’s not looking to arouse her right now. He’s not quite ready to follow through on that as yet, although he’s sure it won’t be very long. He simply wants to feel her. He wants to know her -- every part of her -- as well as he knows her face. Not that he’s ever seen the expression that’s currently painted across her features. It’s a mixture of longing, nervousness, curiosity and tenderness. She bites her lip, glancing down at his hand on her.

“You know,” he tells her all of a sudden: “you’re very tight.”

She snorts in surprise: “Is that what you wanted to thank me for?”

“It slipped my mind whatever I wished to thank you for,” he says, hand motionless on her curls: “I was just saying. You’re very small. Inside.”

She scrunches her nose, shakes her head at him. “Yeah. I don’t need to know that.”

“It makes sense, I suppose,” he goes on nevertheless.

“Why?” she asks: “Because I so rarely have sex?”

“Exactly,” he murmurs: “And it’s been awhile for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a judgement, Lemon. I’m merely stating the facts. Unless there’s someone you haven’t told me about.”

She looks down. “No.”

“Good,” he smiles.

“Anyway,” she adds, rather gingerly: “the last guy I was with…wasn’t anywhere near…”

“As big as I am?” he finishes for her, unable to suppress a smirk.

She frowns a little. “I was trying to find a tactful way to put it.”

“There _is_ no tactful way to put _that_ ,” he informs her drolly.

“Well, there you go…” she shrugs: “I guess that’s why I am…as I am. And there is a bit of a size difference between us, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I had noticed. That’s why I mention it.” He shifts up higher on the bed before asking: “I didn’t hurt you at all. Did I?”

She meets his gaze, her lips parting. “No…” she says softly, then repeats, even more softly: “No.”

He pauses again, glances down at his hand. “So those were all good screams then?”

“I did not scream.”

“A little bit, you did.”

“Well, anyway--” She rolls her eyes but her thigh lifts to rub against his hand: “You can trust me that if you do something I don’t like, you will know about it.”

“Good. Well. Now that that’s settled--” He nods, leans in to kiss her quickly, before his mouth descends to cover her in kisses.

“Hey,” she says, lifting her head: “Where are you going?”

Hands on her waist, he grins up at her. “I want to look at you.”

“What…?” Her legs immediately clamp together, lifting protectively: “No! Are you nuts?”

“Hey, hey, hey--” he chuckles, easing her legs back to the bed: “Watch those knees.”

“Sorry,” she winces, peering down at him worriedly: “But. What’re you--?”

“Just relax,” Jack soothes, settling between her thighs. He lifts one, then the other, over his shoulders, her heels resting on his back: “I’m only…”

“What?” she mutters: “Browsing?”

“Sort of,” he smirks. Then lowers his eyes to her most intimate area.

“Oh, jeepers.” She drops back on the mattress, throws an arm over her face. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he retaliates, hands smoothing up the backs of her raised thighs.

“You’re weird,” she shoots back, toes squirming in the air.

“And you’re wet.”

Now that he’s down there, he’s unable to stop himself from having a taste. He moves in, kissing her like he would kiss her mouth, sucking the juice off her outer lips, scraping her inner lips with his teeth. There is a certain amount of panic in her voice when she cries out his name but there’s also a good deal of surprised arousal, so he doesn’t move from where he is.

But he does pull back to look up at her. “Liz. Look at me.”

She shakes her head tightly. “Can’t.” But her hand shifts off her eyes a little. She chances a look down at him, moaning piteously: “What’re you trying to do to me?”

“I’m trying to pleasure you,” he answers: “Is it working?”

“I--”

“Don’t answer that actually--” he interjects: “I’ll much prefer finding out on my own.”

She moans lowly as he buries his face back in her wet folds, his nose nudging at her clit as his tongue slithers round her entrance. Despite her protestations, Liz doesn’t stop him and within minutes, her body jerks sharply and she comes against his mouth, clutching fistfuls of sheet.

Her body is lax, skin covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, as he moves back over her. Her hands reach for his hips as he lowers himself into the cradle of her thighs. He plants one hand against the mattress, curls one around her ass, then leans down for a kiss as he pushes inside her. She’s tighter from her orgasm, but slippery wet, and once embedded, he stays still, feeling her breath even out beneath him.

He kisses her for a few minutes. And when they’re both ready, he wraps his arms around her and lifts her. She gasps as he sits back on his heels, as she settles into the new position, arms round his neck. Her eyes are darker than usual, filled with both lust and satisfaction. She lifts herself once, slightly, as if testing the waters, then engulfs him fully. She releases a breath, tossing her head to get her hair out of her eyes. He reaches up with both hands to smooth the hair back from her face, then pulls her in for another kiss.

Her tongue fills his mouth, stroking over his as his hands circle her back then cover both her breasts. She breaks their kiss to draw in air and then carefully, she starts to move. The pace is gentle at first, dictated by their position. And Liz is still getting used to…everything, he assumes. So he lets her move, lets her set the pace, watches her breathing deepen with each descent and her gaze drop periodically from his eyes to his mouth.

And as he watches all this, it strikes him that nothing is like it usually is, that nothing feels like it ordinarily might. Everything is heightened. Every sensation, every feeling, every move, every breath. Because it’s her, it’s really her. It’s Liz he’s inside of, Liz he is touching and watching and being touched and watched by. The motions might be the same but everything else is so different. And nothing will ever be the same again. Not for him and not between them. And not that he regrets that. In fact, he’s pleased. He’s ecstatic. Different is good, better. Different is what he’s been waiting for all these years.

When the urgency starts to grow between them, she pauses to let Jack lie back on the tumbled sheets, legs uncurling from beneath her. His hands immediately go to her hips and he starts to move with her, creating a new rhythm. Liz leans forward, hands on the bed, bringing her breasts closer to him.

After a minute, she asks, her voice barely audible: “Is it good? Am I--?”

“You’re doing it perfectly,” he assures her: “It couldn’t feel better.”

Apparently, she disagrees because she starts to tighten her inner muscles on him whenever he is fully sheathed inside her. Something that not only makes him groan, it makes her eyes close over. Her cheeks are a high red when she stops to shift back on him. She begins rocking against him, keeping him deep inside her, hands moving over his chest, fingers digging through the hair there.

Jack slips a hand between her legs to circle her clit, and the change in her body is immediate. He watches, rapt, as she takes her pleasure, revels in it almost, and can’t help wondering who this woman is, riding him, giving herself to him. He’s unsure whether it’s the agonizing time it took them to get here that’s stripped her of her inhibitions, or whether it’s the incredible chemistry he always suspected they would have if and when they made it to this point. It occurs to him that it may be both these things, as well as the fact that Liz trusts him like no other man. And that thought, despite all the stimulation he is currently receiving, manages to bring a lump to his throat.

Mesmerized by her, he continues his firm, generous circles on her slick clit, continues rocking his hips up to meet her and reaches one hand up to flick her nipples, just lightly with the nail of his thumb. It seems to be enough to put her over the edge and she comes again with a blissful cry. And his name gasped in awe. She collapses on him boneless and breathless. And he can’t believe how much he likes just that. Her sweaty breasts pressed against his chest, her hair tickling his jaw, her stomach expanding on his.

He smiles, rubbing her back. Then he shifts her off him, pulling out of her. She flops to one side and he pulls her closer, dropping kisses in her hair.

“That was good,” she slurs after a minute or so.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Jack replies.

After another short while, she glances down at his patient erection then slides her eyes up to his face. “How do you, um...?”

Jack smiles slowly. “How do I want you? Is that what you’re asking me?”

She rolls her eyes, too drained to come up with a quick quip. “Yes. Okay?”

He leans in to whisper against her mouth: “A thousand different ways, Lemon. Never doubt that.”

She laughs a little. “Okay, let’s start with just one.”

His mouth curls up in one corner and he pulls back. Then he vaults off the bed, completely naked, holding out a hand to her like he’s asking her to dance, which he kind of is. A different sort of dance.

Liz peers up at him with a creased brow. “You really expect me to walk after that?”

“Not far,” he assures her then reaches down to seize her hand.

She uncurls from the sheets and gets to her feet. “Where are we going, all naked and dripping?”

Jack finds the nearest piece of wall and leads her to it. Quickly, he takes a framed picture down and puts it aside. Then he places her with her back to the wall but not touching it.

Hands on her shoulders he asks: “You’ve never made love standing up, have you?”

She starts to scoff.

“Be honest.”

She regards him with her brown eyes for a moment, then shakes her head.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he tells her and moves in close.

She obeys, blinking up at him.

He grins lopsidedly. “And hold on tight.”

She lets out an: “Oh boy,” as he sweeps her up and sets her back against the wall. Her legs instinctively wrap around him. Her lips twitch into a smile.

“Let me show you how it’s done then,” he murmurs before capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

He hoists her higher, then slips a hand between them, guiding his hardness to her opening. She doesn’t cease her kisses as he enters her again in three desperate shoves. She accepts his tongue into her mouth, gasping against his lips with each thrust. But when two of his fingers attempt to find her clit again, one of her hands claws down his forearm.

She shakes her head emphatically. “No. It’s…too much.”

“I want you to come again,” he pants, rubbing either side of her little bundle of nerves.

She groans a tortured groan, eyes slipping shut. “You _must…_ be kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

She cracks her eyes open, breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I can’t, Jack.”

He takes one of her hands from his shoulder and lowers it to their joining. “You can, Lemon.”

“What do you expect _me_ to do down there?” she asks confusedly.

He leans in to kiss her once. “Whatever comes naturally.”

And with that he begins to move. He’s been waiting for so long and he’s not sure how much more he has left in him. He’s fairly focused on himself at this point, on how good it feels to be inside her, to slide against her nakedness, to touch her, hear her moans, to kiss her and lose himself inside her. He’s so enamoured with making love to her this way that he almost misses the small movement of her fingers against herself, until they brush against him on a downstroke. It makes him moan. Not just the movement, but the thought. The thought of Lemon – sheepish, inexperienced, adverse-to-sex Lemon, touching herself so that he can feel her come around his cock one last time. It’s enough to make him come, which he’s about to, any second. So he doesn’t dare look at her for fear that she will stop.

He quickens his pace, moaning in her ear: “Come for me again. I want to feel it.”

She moans back, wordlessly. And if he could’ve grown harder at that he would’ve. But he’s never been so aroused in his life, which is saying something. He’s not going to last much longer, but he is in reckless pursuit of that last orgasm of hers. He wants it to be the best of the night. Which is also saying something. But then, Jack has always aimed high. And, in his opinion, Liz deserves no less than the very best of what he has to give.

He moans her name in her ear repeatedly -- both of them, he can’t seem to stick to one -- his hands clutching her ass as he thrusts up into her wet warmth. Her hand lifts away from herself, wrapping tight around his neck instead, her face buried in his shoulder. She pants his name softly, in a way that lets him know that she is not far off that final peak.

“Liz?”

“Keep going,” she puffs: “Just…oh my God--!”

A second later her back arches and her head jolts back. Her arms weaken around his neck and he has to grasp her tight to stop her toppling. She cries out again, harsher than before, one hand flying above her head to the wall, seeking something to hold onto. Her palm slaps against the surface ineffectually as her inner walls collapse in on him. Jack bellows against her neck, mouth wide open, eyes screwed shut, pumping irregularly, blissfully as he releases himself deep within her.

Their last, shared orgasm is long and intense, barely leaving enough energy from them to return to the bed. They manage to make it though, collapsing on their backs, utterly spent. For the present, at least.

Liz’s hand flails in his direction, finding his heaving chest. Jack plays weakly with her fingers.

“I may need to sleep for a month after that,” she sighs. “Only I’m too tired.”

“And just think…” Jack muses, turning his head to look at her: “this is only the beginning.”

Liz groans, but finds the energy to roll into him. She’s too wiped to come up with a rejoinder and moments afterwards she has fallen into a light slumber. With the last of his strength, Jack lifts a blanket over them and soon he is joining her in the land of satiated nod.

* * *

The morning after, they’re still bickering over it. Well, sort of:

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What were you thinking? That night. When you gave me that look.”

“The predatory one?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“This has plagued your mind, hasn’t it? Kept you awake nights?”

“It has not.”

“Well, it was a long time ago now.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t recall my thoughts being so very predatory. I assume I was thinking that you were unlike any woman I’d ever met. And I rather regretted our evening coming to an end.”

“Oh…okay.”

“I suppose I might also have speculated whether giving you a different answer to your question earlier in the evening might’ve changed anything. If our evening may not have been ending but just beginning.”

“What question?”

“Whether or not we were on a date.”

“...Were we?”

“You still don’t know?”

“I’m still not sure.”

“Of course we were.”

“We were?”

“Of course, it was a date.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted you to myself for a whole night.”

“Why?”

“I liked you. I wanted you to like me.”

“I did like you.”

“I know,” he grins: “You just didn’t _want_ to like me.”

She rolls her eyes. "Alright. Knock it off.”

Jack’s smile widens as he heads around the kitchen island towards her. “I knew I could win you over though.”

“Win me over?”

“To liking liking me.”

Dressed in only her robe, Liz swivels on her stool to face him. “I like you less when you’re smug.”

He places the plate of freshly-made omelettes on the counter behind her, leaning in close as he does. “When am I not smug?”

She tilts her head. “Hm. Good point.”

“I think it’s clear from last night…” he muses, lifting the apron over his head and throwing it aside: “…that you like me either way.”

She watches as he parts her knees and moves between them. “Seems pretty clear that you like me too.”

Jack smiles back, hands moving to her robe. “All the same,” he murmurs: “I’m going to work on winning you over some more.”

“Oh well…” Her arms coil round his neck as his mouth nears hers: “Knock yourself out.”

_END._

For more of my "30 Rock" fanfic go [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/812100/Mindy35)


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